A Botley Childhood
Today’s children can only begin to imag-
ine the sort of childhood we enjoyed in
Botley in the 1950s. Our playground was
Seacourt, Poplar and Hazel Roads and
the adjacent fields. Playing rounders in
the turning circle at the top of Hazel Road
wasn’t unheard of. Then we would decide
who would go into a resident’s garden to
retrieve a tennis ball or a football. It took
some discussion, as one old gentleman
living in the turning circle was very hostile
towards children! We also had the “Backie”, and Wytham Woods
where we used to play Waggon Train. We all had our designated
roles to play, decided in advance. Then there was the Up-and-
Downey Field where the Botley Roundabout is now. Wytham Lane
really was a lane, then, and I could still show you where the donkey
field was. Picking bluebells and primroses in Wytham Woods for our
Mums was so enjoyable, but would be frowned upon now. Blackber-
rying with our parents was also a regular pastime and then the Mums
would bottle the blackberries or make jelly or jam.
The Backie was a field where the Seacourt Older People’s bungalows
are now. There was an Air Raid shelter at the entrance with a barbed
wire fence to stop us climbing onto it, but that didn’t stop us. We were
familiar with every detail on top and inside the Air Raid shelter. Even
though the entrances at both ends had been bricked up, we could still
climb down inside and we played there quite happily!
There was a ditch at the bottom of the Backie, which we shared with
the cows. We played in it for hours jumping over it, hanging a rope
from a tree to swing over it. Someone always ended up falling in, or
the rope would break and the child come crashing down. The trees
were tall and they were there to be climbed, of course. One particular
friend would climb the highest one, get stuck at the top when she
looked down, and then we drew straws as to who would go and fetch
her Dad to rescue her. He was none too happy, I can tell you, and
would berate us for letting her go up there in the first place, but there
was little we could do to stop her!
Washing our hands in water troughs provided for the cows wasn’t un-
heard of, either, when we got mud on them – which, of course, we
did!! The cows didn’t seem to mind and neither did we. We played